


Everybody Talks Too Much

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: tumblr ficlets [28]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Background Harry Hart | Galahad/Merlin (Kingsman), First Meetings, M/M, awkward percival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 20:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17453777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Everyone has something to say about the new agent.





	Everybody Talks Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Harry or Merlin talking to Alistair about James. How Alistair and James met. Title from the song Everybody Talks by Neon Trees.

“He’s more of a menace than an agent,” is Bedivere’s official opinion.

“He has a larger penchant for showing off than Bors or Galahad,” is what he hears from Lamorak.

“He needs to learn some self-control, and that’s coming from me,” Bors tells him.

“Given the way he dresses, I’m fairly confident he’s a poof. Apparently, we’re allowing that sort in now,” Tristan sneers.

“He seems a bit soft for this kind of job,” Kay shrugs.

“He only got the position because the other candidate died,” Gawain confides.

“Oh, he’s absolutely lovely. I know he wasn’t my proposal, but he makes a brilliant Lancelot,” Galahad says cheerfully.

“They’re all a bunch of idiotic wankers,” Merlin grumbles.

“Even Harry?” Alistair asks, nudging the screwdriver that Merlin has been groping blindly for into the path of his hand.

Merlin picks up the screwdriver, squinting down at the piece of tech in his hands, and says, “ _Especially_ Harry. And I would know.” He looks up just long enough to give Alistair a sly smile, before frowning back down at his work. Dismantled as it is, Alistair doesn’t have a clue what it’s supposed to be in its final form. “But he is right, though,” Merlin adds. “Gawain doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. James does make an excellent Lancelot. He’d be a bit better if he didn’t destroy all my tech, but if I trained Harry out of it, I can train him as well.”

“I was under the impression that your version of ‘training’ Harry involved bribing him with sex,” Alistair says dryly. “I’m not sure how he’ll feel about you doing the same with Lancelot.”

Merlin points the screwdriver at him, somehow managing to look threatening instead of comical, “I did not bribe Harry with sex to get him to stop destroying my equipment.” He pauses, “Okay, I can see why it looks like I did.”

Alistair grins.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“ _My point_ ,” Merlin says, “is that James just needs a calming influence. Someone who can bring him down to earth a bit.”

“I hear he spends most of his free time with Harry. I’m not sure that’s the ‘calming influence’ you’re looking for.”

Merlin shudders, “God no. They get on terrifically, but I’m a little worried that if they ever went rogue, they’d be able to take over the world through sheer determination and fool-headedness.”

“And you think about Harry going rogue often?” Alistair asks.

Merlin hesitates, and then admits, “More often than I’d like.”

Alistair can see that it’s time to shift the subject back into safer territory, “Does…James…know about you and Harry?”

“You mean, is our resident arsehole, Tristan, right that he’s gay?” Merlin raises an eyebrow knowingly.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know I have no interest in a relationship. I’m-“

“Married to the job,” Merlin finishes. “Aren’t we all?” He gives his project a little bang on the desk, making Alistair jump. A piece falls off, but apparently that was what Merlin wanted, because he smiles and says to the little gadget, “ _There_ you are.” He looks up, “For the record, I wasn’t suggesting setting you up. I just think that you might be good for him. Give him an opportunity to spend time around someone who’s…a little less boisterous than Harry.”

“Someone mind-numbingly boring, you mean.”

“I meant exactly what I said,” Merlin says. “Not everyone buys into that ‘straight-laced boring bookworm’ act you like to put on, you know.”

“Well, knowing I’m hardly straight helps,” Alistair teases.

Merlin rolls his eyes at the joke, “Just…think about it? You should at least meet him.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Alistair says.

As he turns to leave, Merlin adds, “He is gay, by the way. Just so you know.”

“If I’m not going to ask him out, then I don’t think it matters much,” Alistair points out.

He doesn’t actually meet James for another week. He’s in the Kingsman kitchens, making tea and searching the fridge for milk that isn’t labelled (yet another thing about Tristan that Alistair actually hates), and when he straightens up there’s a man leaning against the door, grinning at him. “Hello.”

Alistair nearly drops the milk. “You startled me,” is what he says. _Fuck, he’s gorgeous_ , is what he thinks.

The man’s grin doesn’t falter, and he sweeps a hand back through his shiny black hair, “Terribly sorry.” He offers his hand out to Alistair, “Agent Lancelot. Or James Spencer, if you’d prefer.”

“Percival,” Alistair manages to stutter out. He’s still clutching the milk like a lifeline. Teeth that white should be illegal.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of the boring boys who only wants to go by his codename,” James says. He plucks the milk out of Alistair’s hands and moves around him to get to the counter. Alistair stays rooted to the spot, because James had brushed up against him as he’d passed and Alistair is pretty sure his knees are about to give out. He hears James rattling around in the cupboards, making his own cup of tea.

“Don’t let Merlin hear you call him that,” he manages.

“Not Merlin,” James says. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be shocked if that _was_ his real name. Suits him.”

“His name is Hamish,” Alistair says, like an idiot.

Suddenly there are hands on his shoulders, turning him around, and James’s grin comes back into view. “Lovely for Merlin. Now, what about you?”

Alistair’s tongue no longer feels like it should fit in his mouth. “Alistair,” he finally says. “My name is Alistair.”

James’s hands are still on his shoulders. They’re large, and warm, and Alistair is utterly fucked.

James’s grin, impossibly, gets wider. “Pleasure to meet you, Alistair,” he purrs. “Oh, I have a feeling we’re going to get along splendidly.”

Alistair has a feeling he’s in for a world of trouble. He’s not sure the two feelings are mutually exclusive.


End file.
